Head Trauma
by VaultEscapeArtist
Summary: Garrett Hawke is a young, heavyweight MMA fighter who meets Fenris, a lightweight, who has a controlling ring coach that is endangering his health. Rated M for violence, strong language, and sexual references and situations. Pairings: M!Hawke/Isabela, M!Hawke/Fenris


**Head Trauma**

**Modern Dragon Age AU**

**Garret Hawke/Fenris **

**Summary: **

Garrett Hawke is a young, heavyweight MMA fighter who meets Fenris, a lightweight, who has a controlling ring coach that is endangering his health.

**A/N:** I am not a MMA fighter. I looked up the rules online and interpreted them to the best of my ability. I've seen matches, yeah, but that only does so much. If I screw something up, tell me _politely_, please. It was an honest mistake (probably) and I don't mind being corrected if it's done nicely. Thank you. I love getting feedback or questions so feel free to do so. As for how many chapters this'll have, I'm thinking it will be split into three parts, but...I have the tendency to take a small project and make it into a HUGE project so who knows?

Also, Darius is Danarius. If that isn't already obvious.

**Chapter 1:** Kintz

"_Never let go of a good thing without a fight. Especially if that good thing is a pair of boxing gloves."  
― Jarod Kintz_

His back and shoulders always tensed up before a fight. Garrett knew this. And Isabela knew this. That was the reason she was vigorously massaging his back muscles while Merrill pounded her tiny, pale fists on his left shoulder. And well, Isabela had never passed up an opportunity to touch him while he was half-naked before. Frankly, he would have been insulted if she had. He was damn _fine _if he did say so himself. And he did say it, out loud, quite often.

"That better, sweet thing?" Isabela gave him a light push towards the ring where Varric, Garrett's MMA coach, was waiting for him.

"Oh, yeah," Garrett nodded, rolling his shoulders forward. "Thanks, Isabela." He nodded to the woman, who claimed she only attended his matches to meet well muscled, future one night stands. Garrett knew better. The former petty thief had met Garrett when someone she stole from had had her literally cornered._Isabela is a helluva fighter herself_, he thought grimly. _But no one should have to face Ari alone. _Ari, a heavyweight fighter as well, was the current state MMA champion. And Garrett was planning to change that.

He and Isabela hadn't fought Ari the night they had met, they had ran, but they couldn't do that forever. Isabela never went to any matches at Bianca's gym that Ari was participating in, but Garrett saw the tall brute quite often in between matches or during practice. He knew they wouldn't stay passive for long. Garrett wanted that title and he was more than happy to duel for it.

"I wonder what sort of speech Varric has planned for tonight?" Merrill wondered aloud, catching Garrett's attention. Merrill was a dark haired college student that Varric was watching over for the time being. And since her guardian owned the gym he fought at, Garrett saw her quite often.

Garrett had her answer. "A _long_ one."

* * *

His mother, Leandra Amell, was watching this fight, though she couldn't disapprove more. And Garrett didn't blame her for that, not one bit. _She_ may have blamed him for, well, everything, but that was _her_ way of coping. Not his. He didn't focus on her long, Varric had grabbed his jaw and turned him around towards the ring. The man was ready to give his pre-fight speech. Garrett gave him a lopsided grin.

"Stop smiling. You're a fighter, Hawke. You have to _look_ like one." No matter how much Varric protested, Garrett fought every match with a stupid, bloody smirk on his face. A trait that pissed his opponents off immensely.

The referee, a tall redhead, walked over and glared impressively down at Varric. "Keep it short," she warned, referencing his infamous speeches.

"I always do, Aveline," Varric answered, charming as could be.

That got a snort out of her. "You _never_ do." She stomped off to talk to the other coach.

Tonight's match was a ring match, as usual. Garrett avoided gyms that used cage matches. He had never like the idea of being locked in anywhere. And especially not somewhere that had someone who could legally beat the shit out of him. No thanks.

"You're a Champion, Hawke," Varric began. Garrett gave him a nod to continue. "This is _your_ story."

"Damn right it is." Garrett stood up, bouncing on his feet. He was mainly a wrestler, but his boxing was in no way inferior. He practiced a few combos.

Now Varric gave him a few details of the man he was to fight. "This guy's been hit in the head way too many times. Quentin's crazy. Watch out for that."

Garrett blinked. "Watch out for crazy? How do I-"

Varric cut him off. "I also saw him hitting on your mom earlier, so..."

"WHAT?"

"Go get him, Killer."

And that was it. Aveline was shocked to see Garrett ready to fight so quickly. Varric had actually listened to her? She was marking this day down. With her whistle between her teeth, she got a nod from her husband, one of the night's judges. She motioned for the men to meet in the middle.

As Garrett stepped forward he got advice shouted at him.

"Don't let him hit your pretty face!" _Thank you, Isabela. _Her advice was verbally seconded by their on site medic, Anders.

"Don't trip!" was Merrill's lovely little addition.

"Make it interesting! I have to write about this for the paper, remember?" And _there_ was Varric. But most embarrassing of all was Sebastian's completely sincere, "I'll pray for you, Hawke!" that the seminarian shouted from the stands. Garrett ignored him and everything else. He tapped his gloved fists against Quentin's and started looking for a way to get a hold on him. From Quentin's bio Garrett knew he was a kick boxer and therefore Garrett planned to pin him down as soon as possible. Well, at least that had been the plan.

"You have such a _beautiful_ mother. She spoke so highly of you."

Garrett saw red. He was unused to his opponent shouting insults at him, and especially not in such a calm and almost serene voice. Quentin needed to get his ass kicked.

Thankfully Quentin didn't have anymore time to talk. Garrett, after throwing a few punches, found his opening and tackled the older man to the floor. He got a few holds on him but Quentin always managed to somehow slip out of his grasp. It was infuriating. _One_ round of this was enough, Garrett sure as hell wasn't going to do two rounds of this shit.

Rolling off the floor and back onto his feet, Garrett assumed a new stance, raising his arms high to protect his face. Sensing the change Quentin moved forward to engage. Garrett let him get off a few kicks and jabs, letting him feel confident. Garrett's bright red shorts caught the light as he shifted and danced out of Quentin's reach. He was exhausted by the time the round was over and Aveline broke them up, shoving them towards their respective corners.

Varric and Anders were waiting for him, Varric holding a wet cloth for his forehead while Anders had a medical kit open and ready. He had a few scratches which the medic cleaned quickly and efficiently. Outside of the gym Garrett liked Anders well enough. He was actually pretty funny when he wasn't talking about his social justice blog.

Varric finished wiping off his face and checked for any serious head injuries. The dwarf never neglected his fighter, something Garrett and Leandra were both grateful for. Garrett's brother, Carver, hadn't been so lucky with coaches. "Your takedowns are good, but he's slippery."

"He keeps escaping." Quentin would get points for that, but Garret had the upper hand so far.

"Keep at it," Varric advised him. "You'll wear him down eventually. Just stick to what you're good at. He's the better boxer, but you're the-"

"Better man, yeah, I know."

Varric snorted and shook his head. "I was going to say "the better wrestler" but whatever you want, Hawke."

Aveline blew her whistle after speaking with the judges. Garrett was all ready to follow Varric's advice, but then he saw Quentin. He was waving. He was waving to Garrett's mother.

It took forty-three seconds for Garrett make it to the middle, tap Quentin's fist, side step away from a kick, and then knock the motherfucker (God, not literally) onto his ass. Aveline kept Garrett from jumping on the bastard. Quentin was unconscious.

"Anders! Medic!" Aveline shouted, blowing on her whistle. She was bent over Quentin who still wasn't moving.

Everyone held their breath until Anders assured them all that Quentin would wake up in a few minutes. Once he did Aveline announced Garrett as the winner and the next match was on.

Vaulting over the ropes, Garrett met the excited grins of his friends as well as Varric's dramatic, exasperated sighing. "Really, Hawke? What am I going to write about now? You couldn't drag it out a few more rounds?"

"Just make something up, Varric." Garrett grinned mischievously. "You always do."

"I report the truth, Hawke. Don't insult me."

"_Really_? 'Cause I don't remember doing a back-flip in that meet last week-"

Varric raised his hands in surrender. "Okay, okay." He looked around and caught sight of Leandra. "Is your sister here, too?" He tossed a water bottle Garrett's way, which the fighter caught happily.

After downing half the bottle, Garrett slipped off his fighting gloves and searched for his gym bag. "Oh, Beth? She joined some sorority that apparently won't let her ever leave. I haven't seen her in months."

Isabela came over with his bag. "Really? That's a shame. Your sister was _so_ cute."

"Oi," Garrett snapped his fingers at her, snatching his bag away in the same motion. "Go after one Hawke at a time, Bela. It's common courtesy."

Isabela had a comeback for that, he was sure, but something behind him was distracting her. She suddenly surged forward, grabbing Garrett's arm and digging her nails into her flesh. "Look. Over there. Starboard." Garrett turned around expectantly. Isabela swatted at him. "No! That's port! This way." She turned him the other way and blatantly pointed. "Him. The lightweight with the pale hair. And the tattoos. He's _new_."

"I think he's a featherweight, actually." Garrett narrowed his gaze on the lanky form of a dark skinned fighter with obviously bleached hair. "Hell, he might even be _bantamweight_."

Isabela looked disappointed. "You mean you _don't_ know him? How are you going to introduce us?!"

Garrett shrugged. Looks like they weren't going to hang out tonight. Isabela was already forming other plans. "Hey, Varric! Who's fighting next?"

Varric came over at his call. "Keep drinking water, Hawke," he reminded him. "And I'll take you out to eat after I watch this last match. I have to write on this one for the paper, too."

Garrett fist pumped. "You're buying me dinner? Hell, yeah!"

Still watching the lightweight, Isabela chuckled. "You're going to regret that, Varric. Or at least your wallet will." She repeated Garrett's former question. "Who's about to fight?"

"Merrill has the roster." Varric beckoned her over and once again the question was stated. Merrill appeared with a clipboard and her green eyes scanned the paper. "It's a featherweight match. Between a man named Brekker and Fenris." Her head shot up. "He's named Fenris? Like the Norse Fenrir? That's so interesting!" Merrill was a history major and though her specialty was Celtic mythology, she knew other myths, too.

Nudging Isabela and wiggling his eyebrows suggestively, Garrett asked her, "Did you hear that? Fen-_ris_. Make sure you can pronounce it correctly. I'd _hate_ for you to forget it and accidentally say _my_ name during an, uh, _intimate_ moment."

She laughed and shoved him away towards the stands. "Oh, shut up and go tell your mother you're okay."

"Just remember. Fenris. Not Hawke. Hawke. _HawkeHawkeHawkeHawke_-"

Isabela made a rude hand gesture as he walked over to his mother. Leandra was sitting still on a bleacher, waiting calmly for him to show up. Garrett hopped up onto the stands and sat next to her. "Hey, mom."

She nodded at him and tugged absentmindedly on a few of her curls. Garrett knew he was responsible for most of that grey hair. "How's your head?"

Garrett's smile tightened. "I'm fine. It's fine."

Leandra visibly relaxed. "Okay. Good." She fidgeted with the hem of her shirt. "Are you sure? Did you have Anders check on it? What did he-"

"I didn't even get hit in the head this fight, mother. I'm okay." Garrett jumped down from the bench. "Do you have a ride home?"

"I drove here myself," Leandra smiled weakly. She let her eldest child help her down and escort her outside. Suddenly she turned to him and tugged on his chin. "Without that beard you look more like Carver and less like your father."

"Rules of the game, mother. No beard." Garrett wished she would stop bringing up Carver. The topic still was raw. He gently guided her outside and waited for her to remember where she parked.

Once Leandra was in her car and on her way back home, Garrett rushed back inside to find Varric. Isabela had got him curious. Even though this newcomer was a lightweight, Garrett still wanted to see him fight. He made it back inside for the third round.

"How's he doing?" Garrett nudged Varric and indicated Fenris. The thin man was talking with his coach, a grey, older man. The coach was yelling at Fenris before he shoved him back towards the center of the ring. Garrett prickled at the sight.

"Brekker's a fast little shit, but you knew that already." Varric's flicked over to Garrett knowingly.

"I hate him. I hope this new guy kicks his ass." Brekker and Garrett knew each other well. Garrett couldn't count how many times Brekker told him to go the fuck back to England. He couldn't understand why Brekker wouldn't give him a chance. They could bond in their mutual empathy towards whatever the royal family was up to. Garrett had fled over the Atlantic and he _still_ couldn't escape tabloid updates about their life.

"He's been doing a good job of it so far..." Varric nodded towards Fenris, who was visibly ready to fight. Garrett's coach sighed. "Now _there's_ a game face. _Look_ at him! What a brooder. Hawke, you should take notes."

"I have paper right here. A pen, too." Garrett saw immediately what Varric was talking about. Fenris was an intense fighter. His dark brows that contrasted so greatly with his hair were furrowed. His stance was tight and controlled. Brekker may have kept him at bay the first two rounds, but that was going to change. Garrett could tell just from the different ways Brekker and Fenris were holding themselves.

Aveline blew her whistle and the two fighters tapped fists. Fenris didn't waste any time. At the urgings of his coach, Fenris stormed towards Brekker, his fists raised. He pummeled Brekker with multiple body shots, but Brekker endured through it all to Garrett's (and Fenris's) irritation.

Garrett was so focused on the fight that he didn't notice Varric was trying to talk to him. His coach resorted to kicking him in the back of the knee.

"Shit." Garrett almost fell forward. "What do you want?" He frowned down at Varric expectantly.

"I said," Varric repeated slowly, as if Garrett might hear him better that way, "We're taking Isabela, Daisy, and Blondie with us to dinner. We might even make it a weekly thing. Depends on whether or not you eat me out of house and home."

"Pshh. I don't eat _that_ much, Varric." Garrett's eyes were back on the ring. "I might eat you out of your _car_, maybe."

"Comforting."

There was a collective gasp throughout the audience. Brekker had gotten lucky and had caught the side of Fenris's skull on one of his punches. It was a solid hit and Garrett swore he could hear the contact of flesh hitting flesh. Fenris stumbled backwards, his arms cartwheeling to keep his balance. He managed to stop himself with the ropes and when Brekker got close he drew his arm back and then struck Brekker's heart with the palm of his hand. Brekker collapsed in on himself and for the rest of the following rounds, Fenris kept up the advantage. He ended up winning by a few points. Donnic called it.

There was a series of quick flashes throughout the gym. Gascard, an annoying photojournalist for a foreign MMA magazine, was snapping picture after picture of Fenris as he made his way out of the ring and to his coach. He was bleeding and dizzy, from what Garrett could see, but Fenris's coach pushed Anders away before he could treat him. Garrett caught up to Anders as he stormed away.

"What just happened? Why aren't you treating Fenris?" Garrett felt strange using his name when he had yet to even meet the man.

Anders eyes flashed. "Darius, his stupid coach, says he already has a medical carer. _Hadriana_, but she's not even here! He needs someone now, Hawke."

God, Garrett knew what was going to be the subject of Anders's next blog entry. "I agree." He moved past Anders and followed Fenris into the locker room. And he didn't know what he was going to say. When he noticed Anders was right at his heels, Garrett turned back around. "Hey, just give me the medkit. If, uh, Darius sees you chase after Fenris after he told you explicitly _not_ to..."

Anders got the hint and relinquished his medical bag. "Fine. Make sure you check for any head trauma. He took a bad hit tonight. You know how to-"

"I know how."

Fenris was sitting down in Bianca's men's locker room, his eyes closed and his head bowed. Garrett rapped his knuckles on one of the vending machines to alert Fenris to his presence. That pale hair stayed in place, slicked down with sweat, when Fenris's head shot up. Garrett suddenly found himself fixated on by a pair of forest green eyes. It took him a minute to recall why he had walked in there in the first place.

"Uh, hey." Garrett pretended to check out the different flavors of Gatorade in the drink machine. "I'm Hawke, one of the heavyweights." He had long stopped bothering to give his first name in introductions; no one ever bothered with it. He had been "Hawke" the second Malcolm, his father, had passed on. "And you're new."

"I'm Fenris." He shifted uncomfortably. Garrett was staring at him.

Damn. He certainly hadn't expected _that_ voice coming from that small a man. Short, but strong, Garrett admitted easily. Fenris was a fighter by necessity, Garrett read that much from the fight with Brekker. He suddenly realized he hadn't spoken for several moments. "Aw, shit," he laughed anxiously. "I brought the medkit for you. You're welcome." He tried a grin on him that failed miserably.

Fenris looked anywhere but at Garrett. "Hadriana will see to my injuries." His rich voice had suddenly become flat and dry, as if he was simply repeating another's words rather than speaking his own mind.

"Yeah, I heard something about that," Garrett admitted, scratching the back of his neck. "But you're bleeding now so...Plus," he tapped two fingers on his own skull, "You should get that checked out. Brekker got you pretty good."

There was a snort from the man. "Brekker got much worse, I assure you."

"And I appreciate that, believe me. Brekker's a xenophobic asshole." Garrett began shifting through the bag until he felt something cold. "Here." He fished out an ice pack and tossed it to Fenris. "Put that on your head."

Fenris caught it and obediently did so. Garrett went to where he was sitting and crouched down in front of him, staring into his eyes. Fenris quickly leaned away. "Uh. What are you doing?"

"Checking to see if any of your pupils are dilated." Hawke stood up after another minute. "Not that I can see, but make sure Hadriana checks you for any head trauma."

"You know Hadriana?"

Garrett titled his head. Fenris had said that quite venomously. "Actually, no. Darius, your coach, mentioned her when he wouldn't let Anders see to you. He's my medic. Well, not _mine_ though I'm sure he'd like to be."

"I see." Fenris removed the ice pack from his head. He stood up and tried to give it back to Garrett. "Darius will be expecting me back. Here."

Garrett's brows furrowed. "Take that with you. We have more." Fenris merely nodded and walked past him. Garrett took his time placing the unused bandages back in Anders's pack. Darius's relationship with Fenris was...odd. Whenever he got even slightly messed up in a fight Varric was there immediately with bandages and, hell, sometimes even chocolate. Darius had simply sent Fenris off on his own while he talked to a damn reporter.

He had known a coach like that before, and _that_ certainly hadn't ended well.

_No_, Garrett set his jaw determinedly. _It hadn't ended well at all. _

And it was not something he was going to let slide again.


End file.
